It's a Choice
by Peppery
Summary: "You can choose right now to be good. It's a choice." A rather strange crossover in which Agent Ward meets Ferrin, son of Baldor, and briefly explore Ward's options


The Bus hummed quietly as it took off, resupplied and ready to continue the hunt for the Clairvoyant. They'd been off the chase for a few days when Lorelei appeared, but Lady Sif had her on her way back to Asgard and the team was back together. Except May hadn't spoken to Ward since she'd ended things.

Ward now looked around the cargo bay, hands on his hips. FitzSimmons were at work in the lab, Lola sat flawless and red in the corner. Everything felt familiar, almost like home. With a sigh, he headed for the stairs.

Coulson caught him on the way up. Dressed as ever in a three-piece suit, he paused on the stair above Ward so they were almost the same height.

"We've got a prisoner on board now, someone they found at the site where you rescued me. They think he can help us find the Clairvoyant."

"Can he?" Ward asked.

Coulson shrugged. "He won't talk to me. I thought you could convince him?"

"I'll see what I can do." Ward started heading up again, but Coulson called after him.

"Try not to—how do I put this? I don't want to have to pull him out of the ocean."

"I opened the airlock _one_ time," Ward muttered. "We were trying to find you and Hand's guy wasn't getting anywhere."

"I know. Just see if he knows anything."

Ward reached the top of the stairs without reply. Skye, lying on a couch with her laptop on her stomach, waved as he passed. He smiled at her, then entered the sleek vibranium interrogation room. A man sat alone with his feet kicked up on the table.

"Hello," the man said as soon as the door closed. "I'm Ferrin, son of Baldor."

Ward regarded him for a moment. Even though he was chained to the seat, his expression suggested there was no place he'd rather be: casual smile, messy hair, arched eyebrows. He introduced himself like an Asgardian, despite the Australian accent. He was missing both an eye and a hand.

Ward folded his arms. "Grant Ward, agent of S.H.I.E.L.D."

Ferrin laughed and swung his feet to the floor. "No you're not."

"What?"

"You're not an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D."

Bemused, Ward sat and leaned back in his chair. "Okay, then what am I?"

"Hydra," Ferrin said plainly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Ward tensed, then smirked and shook his head. "Hydra? You mean the Nazi science group that was destroyed seventy years ago?"

"I mean Hydra, the Nazi science group that has grown inside S.H.I.E.L.D. since its creation." Ferrin's eyebrows went up even higher. "Am I wrong?"

"You think I'm part of some made-up secret organization within a secret organization? This is coming from the person we found at a Centipede base." His voice took on a harsh edge. "Do you want to explain that?"

"It's where I wanted to be." Ferrin shrugged. "I and my actions are not important. You're the one who matters right now, Grant Ward."

That made Ward pause. What interest did this stranger have in him, and why did he act like he knew so much?

"You are an agent of Hydra. You burned your own house down with your brother inside. When John Garrett found you and offered you a chance, you took it—what were you supposed to do? You lived in the woods for five years until you were accepted into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Operations training. You—"

It was as if Ward hadn't moved at all. One second he was sitting in the chair, the next it was clattering across the floor and Ferrin had a gun trained on him. He shut up, staring at the gun.

"Who the hell are you?" Ward demanded.

Ferrin's eyes never strayed from the gun. He didn't move, didn't even twitch, but something suddenly thudded onto the table in front of him. Ward instantly aimed at it instead. Ferrin, however, slowly picked up the hand and reattached it to his wrist.

"I disabled the cameras," he said. "They can't see or hear us. You're safe."

Ward leveled the gun between Ferrin's eyes. "Tell me who you are and what you want, or I will shoot you."

Ferrin raised his hands as far as the handcuffs would allow, showing his compliance. "I'm what you call an alien, though we call them Beyonders in my world. My race, the displacers, can detach parts of their body. They remain functional through cross-dimensional connections." He wiggled his fingers; one by one they dropped off his hand. "Unlike most of the time, I'm not lying."

Ward stared at the fingers waving on the table.

"Why are you looking at me like I'm crazy?" Ferrin laughed. "You're the one who got possessed by an alien seductress."

Ward took a step closer to the table. "What do you want?" he repeated while Ferrin reassembled his hand.

"I want to help you."

Ferrin leaned forward, all trace of humor gone. Ward's eyes narrowed, but he couldn't keep from wondering: why did this guy care so much? Coulson was the only other person who'd ever looked at him with that earnest expression.

Ward lowered the gun. A small, lopsided grin snuck onto the displacer's face.

"How do you know so much about me?" Ward glanced around at the cameras before Ferrin answered, just to be sure. The wires on every one looked like they'd been ripped out of the wall.

"I've been a spy my entire life. I'd be dead if I wasn't good at knowing things. How I know isn't important." He nodded at the cameras. "Your friends can't access it, so it doesn't matter. My knowing doesn't change anything for you."

"You could have told anyone before you got here."

"I could have. But if you believed that, I'd be dead. You want to know what I can tell you, Grant Ward."

"Tell me, then." Ward folded his arms again, still holding the gun. He remained standing.

Ferrin sighed. "I'm not unlike you. I lie for others, and I have since I was young. Putting on faces is all I've ever done." He seemed to sidetrack for a moment. "I sometimes wonder what I'd be if all my faces were stripped away."

"Why does this matter?" Ward interrupted. That train of thought bothered him, and he didn't want to think about why.

"Because I used to know what I'd be. I served one man, Maldor, for most of my life. I upheld his cause because it was the only constant thing I had behind all my lies. It was the smart thing, too. No one would ever defeat him—I was on the winning side."

"I'm with Garrett if it's the smart thing or not. You're not going to convince me of anything."

"I'm not trying to." Ferrin rested his chin on his clasped hands, apparently having freed himself from the handcuffs. "I want you to see all your options. Measure them and make a decision. Talking to me doesn't change anything."

Ward finally sat, on the very edge of the chair. Eyes on the displacer, he didn't respond.

"Assuming you're not just going to shoot me?" Ferrin seemed off-put by the silence, but shook it off and continued. "I've been where you are, Grant Ward. You are in too deep. You always worked alone, isn't that right? You didn't want to care about anyone. But now you do."

Ward kept his expression flat and didn't answer immediately. But when he said, "You're not wrong," his hand balled into a fist.

"Then you have a decision to make. What are your options?"

"I don't have any," Ward said, and believed it.

"Yes, you do. Look at things honestly. The truth hurts, but you're going to have to deal with it."

Restless, Ward shifted in his seat, leaned against the chair, blew air out of his cheeks. But he didn't say anything. Ferrin broke the quiet, speaking in a cool, rational tone.

"You can do what you always do, continue the mission as if nothing's changed—nothing has, really." He held one hand up. "Or," he held up the other, "you can throw yourself on Coulson's mercy, tell him everything, and trust that he will forgive you."

Ward scoffed. "You really are crazy. He'd throw me out the airlock if he knew what I was."

Ferrin dropped his hands. "There is a possibility that he'll turn on you. I don't think it's likely. I knew someone like him, a man named Galloran. He trusted me even when he knew I was a displacer." He paused, then added, "Displacers are all Maldor's spies by covenant." Ferrin tapped his empty eye socket. "Replacing an enemy's eye with that of a trusted servant can be quite useful. We're not well loved in my world."

It sounded to Ward like an understatement.

"Galloran was a good man," Ferrin continued. "Coulson is a good man. I think he'd protect you, from Hydra and from S.H.I.E.L.D."

"So that's it? That's the big decision?" Frustration crept into Ward's voice. Had he really expected any actual help? "That's why you were so interested in me?"

"Those aren't all your options." The displacer started counting on his fingers. "You could tell Garrett to pull you out of this mission. You could abandon him and Coulson and try to disappear, though I imagine that's much harder to do in this world. You could become a double agent inside of Hydra, working for S.H.I.E.L.D."

Ward grinned, but it was a tired expression, not a happy one. "You really have done this all your life, haven't you?"

The musing look dropped off Ferrin's face. He too looked very, very tired. "Since I was a child. I've only had three real friends in my life." He looked down, playing with something in his hands—probably his fingers. "That's why I'm here. What happens if you choose to stay with Garrett? You lose the trust and respect of the five people you care about. There is a very real chance that they will all die."

He met Ward's eyes, but Ward looked away. Faces presented themselves in his mind; Fitz. Simmons. May. Coulson. _Skye._ If he could just find a way to explain—

He was weak. He knew it. He cared and he was weak.

"If you trust Coulson, you will lose the only constant thing you've had in your life. You will no longer stand for what John Garrett believes. You'll have to figure out who you are when all the faces are stripped away."

Ward put his head in his hands. Who the hell was this guy? He didn't know him, he didn't trust him—how was he able to open all the doors in Ward's head? All his thoughts stayed locked up so he only had to deal with one thing at a time, but now Agent Ward was meeting the kid who got abandoned in the woods, for the first time.

"I have been exactly where you are." Ferrin's voice shook with the force behind it. "I have had to choose between what I once stood for and the only three people who ever truly accepted me."

"They don't know what I am!" Ward yelled. He shot to his feet like he'd been electrified, his expression hard and fierce. "They would kill me if they knew. Garrett is the one who found me. Garrett—" Ward stopped and breathed in for a second. "I won't turn on him."

Ferrin nodded. "I understand." His voice was cool and steady again. "This is your choice to make. Consider your options and the full consequences. Be sure you're willing to accept them."

"What about you?" Ward asked. "What did you do?"

Ferrin looked surprised, but his lips twisted in a crooked smile. He seemed to think for a minute before replying. "The right thing."

Ward rolled his eyes. Of all the arrogant, unhelpful answers—he rested his palms on the edge of the table and leaned forward. "I don't know why you went to all the trouble to find me. It's nice that an alien from another world cares so much," he straightened and started to turn, "but I know what I'm doing."

"I know you do." Ferrin slipped his wrists back through the handcuffs. "Just make sure you know all the consequences."

As he headed for the door, Ward pushed all the thoughts out of his head and locked them in separate rooms again. He shut Skye away at the farthest edge of his mind. Ferrin interrupted him suddenly. "He could tell you to kill her."

He stopped halfway across the room, mid-step, eyes on the door. He pictured Skye behind it, but suddenly she had two bullets in her chest and he couldn't do anything to fix her. Garrett had ordered Quinn to do that. He could order Ward to do it again.

"It's your choice, Grant Ward."

The door slid open, but as Ward stepped through, Ferrin spoke up again.

"Wait. I have a question."

He turned to the displacer.

"Did you shoot the dog?"

Ward closed the door.


End file.
